


Moments We Keep

by Jouissance (restrained_ubiquity)



Series: OQ Prompt Party 2019 [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dimples Queen, F/M, OQ Prompt Party 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restrained_ubiquity/pseuds/Jouissance
Summary: 8.  Roland calls Regina Mama for the first time.





	Moments We Keep

Moments We Keep  
8\. Roland calls Regina Mama

It’s a typical Saturday. The fact that life in Storybrooke has been mundane enough for them to have a typical Saturday is something Henry Mills does not take for granted. He’s due at his Mom and Hook’s for a lunch of something he hopes is edible, taking a moment to shovel some of last night’s leftover lasagna in his mouth just in case Hook is the one doing the cooking. Robin is off with John, helping him build his cabin in the woods, Roland has commandeered the kitchen island for his art studio, and his Mom is pretending she’s not using her magic to deal with the laundry. 

“Mom, I’m off to Mom’s,” he yells down the hall, partly because he’s close to the door and partly because he knows she doesn’t want to explain the clothes floating in the air. As if any of them would judge her for taking advantage of her magic to do something none of them wants to do.

There’s a Have fun, muffled by the closed door called back to him and Henry is halfway out the door when Roland lets out a sigh much to large for his young years. He checks his watch--still a few minutes to spare--and takes the stool next to his little brother. “Spit it out, kid,” he elbow playfully into Roland’s side.

“I don’t have nothing,” Roland tells him, not looking up from his drawing.

“Anything,” Henry corrects automatically and rolls his eyes at his own action. When did he pick that up from his mother? 

“I don’t have ANYTHING to spit out,” Roland amends, coloring angrily until his crayon rips the paper. 

“It means that you have something to say,” Henry explains, handing over another piece of paper. “You can talk to me about stuff, you know. We’re family.”

Roland chews on the inside of his cheek, considering Henry’s offer until he finally says quietly to his drawing, “You have two.”

“To what?” Henry asks, confused. “I have a little bit before I have to go. Do you want to come? The food isn’t as good as Mom’s, but…”

“No!” Roland yells, clambering down the stool and snatching his drawing from the island.

“Woah, Roland!” Henry chases him through the living room, up the stairs and into his bedroom where he crawls into the little tent in the corner. “Roland, I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re mad at me. Can you tell me what I have to do?”

“Nothin’,” his sad, small voice comes from behind the fabric. “You have two and I don’t have any.”

Henry sits crossed legged just outside the tent flap, not daring to enter. That has been well established as Roland’s territory and he respects the rules just as Roland won’t go near his comics without permission. The two had formed an easy brotherhood once their parents finally had the chance to properly get together. Robin and Roland had moved in and after a couple of days, it was like they had always been there; they were always meant to be this family. But it would appear that Henry had missed something pretty big in Roland’s life.

“Two...Moms?” the older boy asks as it suddenly clicks, and is answered by a sniffle from the other side of the canvas wall. “Ah,” it’s all Henry can say for a while. He’s going to be late for lunch, but this is more important. He knows his Mom and Hook will understand, just has his Mom and Robin would. “You know, it was really weird at first when I brought Emma back,” he stretches out against the wall, sitting next to where he’s pretty sure Roland is. “When we all, me and Regina and Emma, decided that she was going to be a mom to me too it was pretty confusing. I didn’t know who to listen to, or even what to call her so I just called her Emma for a long time. Like you call Mom, Gina. But she was my mom before I called her that. She loved me like mom’s do, like Gina does you.”

“When did you call her mom?” the tent flap opens and Roland scoots out, drawing in hand and sits next to Henry.

“I don’t remember actually. I think it was weird for her for a while too, because she hadn’t been a mom before, but it just happened one day and it felt right for both of us. And now I have two Moms.” Henry takes the drawing from Roland’s hand, inspecting the drawing of of a stick figure of a woman with long dark hair and another smaller one with brown curls giving her flowers. He smiles, handing it back to his little brother. 

“When do you think it feels right for Gina?” Roland asks with big, sad eyes that leave Henry wondering how his Mom and Robin ever say no to this kid.

“I think it already feels right, but she’s waiting for you.” Henry holds the gaze of his teary-eyed mother as he speaks. She’s standing in the doorway with a neatly folded stack of Roland’s clothes, open-mouthed and nodding at him.

“Okay,” Roland seems happy with his answer, trusts Henry completely not to lie to him about something so important. 

“You sure you don’t want to go eat fish at my other Mom’s house?” Henry asks, laughing as Roland scrunches up his face and sticks out his tongue. “Good choice,” he stands up, ruffling Roland’s curls as he does and gives Regina time to step back into the hallway. He kisses her cheek and winks at her on his way past, says “bye, Mom,” loud enough for Roland to hear.

She takes a second in the hall to wipe her tears and make sure no more will fall before rapping her knuckles on the doorframe and entering her younger son’s room. He’s laying on the floor, concentrating hard on the paper in front of him, crayon in his hand. His tongue is peeking out in that way it does when he’s thinking really hard. 

“I drawed this for you,” Roland hands her the page and looks down at the floor. Regina sits on the edge of his bed before turning the drawing over. She takes it in as fresh tears fall down her cheeks. 

“I’m going to keep this forever, Roland,” she scoops him up into her arms, rocking them back and forth as his arms wrap around her neck.

She frames it that afternoon, hangs it on the wall in her bedroom where it stays until Roland takes it to his own home many years later: a picture of a woman and a little boy with a carefully crafted To: Mama at the top of the page.


End file.
